Thousands gathered
after the storm
I photographed
And listened.
The nursing home lady in the wheelchair
Her words:
We're defined by what we pass on
to the next generation
ever since the invention of the spear.
Is it your's?
Then it is mine.
What?
Ladybirds.
What?
The harlequin ladybug is no joke
Don't be fooled by its pretty pattern
Don't gather around those enormous machines.
The ladybirds.
They are aphid control.
Blacker than the blackest coffee
Her eyes:
Two groups have gone to war
We made ladybirds
Now we harvest.
Aphid carcasses littering this terra preta
The terra preta remains fertile now
And beyond I see that not all the graves are intact
Fragile silt.
They flew into
Time away from the living
The aphids.
You.
Me.
He, him, her, us, my daughters.
Today you can prepare for what's coming.
We hoped for the best.
But now
Aphid control.
I photographed the lady in the wheelchair
I was surprised to see her again.
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Comments
I like shot poem
--
Nature the master of the creation
Learn more nature's geometry please go here
[link]
--
Nature the master of the creation
Learn more nature's geometry please go here
[link]
--
it's spring when the world is puddle-wonderful
--
Nature the master of the creation
Learn more nature's geometry please go here
[link]
~Aura
--
Never regret anything that made you smile
This Is How All Great Tragedies Start
"People tell you everything, Aura. They tell me everything else."
--
it's spring when the world is puddle-wonderful
--
Never regret anything that made you smile
This Is How All Great Tragedies Start
"People tell you everything, Aura. They tell me everything else."
For some odd reason, I like the last two lines the best.
--
"He had a heart that could have held the empire of the world; and, in the end, he had to content himself with a cellar."
"Oh, well I never, was there ever a cat so clever as Magical Mister Mistofelees?"
Yeah, when I wrote it I felt like the message was straight forward, but after I showed it to my dad and boyfriend I realized that it only seemed straight forward because I knew what I was writing about...Oh well. It happens.
--
it's spring when the world is puddle-wonderful
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